A Mile In The Shoes
by Black Goddess
Summary: Lilah Morgan works for Wolfram and Hart, so the first thing she thinks when she wakes up as a man is 'this is a test.'


Written for 14 Valentines

**Title** A Mile in the Shoes

**Pairing**Lilah/Lindsay

**Disclaimer** I have no connection with Angel: The Series. This is a not-for-profit fanwork.

**Concrit **Yes please!

**Warnings **Genderswitch

A sort of AU for the first couple of seasons of Angel.

Lilah Morgan had always enjoyed getting dressed for work, walking that line between professional and female. Mostly, she was happy with the look she'd devised. She had realised early on that she couldn't afford to seem flighty or lightweight; neither could she afford to look masculine. She found her suits comforting, her armour against the games she played. A flash of leg or a well-displayed cleavage might occasionally buy her a momentary advantage in the office itself, but it didn't get her anywhere with the Senior Partners.

Lilah prided herself on being twice as good as the men around her – she didn't get passed over for promotion much more often than they did, and she'd made damn sure that her earnings equalled theirs. That made it all the more depressing to wake up one morning and find out that she had become a man.

Being Lilah Morgan, working for Wolfram and Hart, her first thought when turned over to slap off her alarm clock and realised that her breasts were missing but she'd grown a cock was not 'how do I get my own body back?' but 'this is a test'. With this thought at the front of her mind, she sat up cautiously and turned on the light. A man's face, still recognisably hers but undoubtedly male, looked at her from the mirror. She pulled a face and he pulled one back.

"What am I going to wear?" she said aloud.

Clothing dilemma solved by a quick trip to the store for a suit way sharper than anything she'd ever seen Lindsay wear, this new body as groomed and immaculate as the old one ever was, Lilah goes to work only half an hour late and feeling more self-conscious than she's allowed herself to feel since college. She strides in determinedly, chin up, brushing aside her colleagues' surprise with a shrug and a look that says 'I have no idea what you're talking about.' The strain of keeping it up all day leaves her cranky and irritable, and when she gets home and realises that she has no clothes to just collapse into, she goes straight to bed.

Exactly who was responsible for this spontaneous gender-reassignment is a question that Lilah devotes a lot of thought to. Everyone had appeared to be surprised at work, though that meant nothing, and she'd been too off-balance that first day to really watch and see who was lying. An opportunity missed, and since then she's heard nothing. The psychics claim not to know anything, the witches say she's under a spell, which she'd worked out for herself, thank you very much, but they have no idea who cast it or why. She has all the resources of Wolfram and Hart at her disposal and she's getting quite a collection of suits.

She looks better as a man than Lindsay does, and he knows it. Something about the way he looks at her makes her uneasy in a way that she can't quite define. It takes her a surprisingly long time to identify the lust mixed with envy in his gaze, and to realise arousal as the source of her unease.

Naturally, Lilah had tested this body. If she was going to occupy it for any length of time, it made sense to test its limits, get used to what it could and couldn't do. Thinking about it in the privacy of her own head, Lilah could say that in the past, if she'd been given a day as a man, the first thing that she'd have done was lock the door and put her hand in her pants. When she actually finds herself in the position, though, that's not the first thing she does.

The first two days, she'd allowed herself time to acclimatise, but the third had found her hitting the gym, testing the strength and stamina of this body and comparing it to the old one. It's not as straightforward as she'd thought it would be. She's the same height, broader through the shoulders and narrower around the hips, but the play of muscles as she swims feel unutterably foreign, and when she realises that she's adjusting her stroke to accommodate breasts she doesn't have, she gets out of the pool and heads straight for the changing rooms. It's only when she get inside that she realises she went to the women's room by mistake. A charming smile and a quick apology gets her out of there but she's suddenly so tired. She makes herself pull on shorts and a T-shirt and run, instead.

Only when she knows every muscle can she turn her attention to the thing between her legs. She'd had to attend to it before, of course, but peeing standing up turned out to be not as complicated as men make it out to be and not a trick to be envied as much as women believe it to be and lost its novelty value after the second time.

Arousal in this body isn't the same. Her usual erogenous zones seem to have copied across, as far as she can see – she never had sensitive nipples, much to the amazement of many of the men she'd slept with, and she still doesn't. There's still the swelling and the moistening, but in different proportions than she's used to. For a moment, she feels so disoriented and nauseous she thinks she might actually vomit, but she takes a deep breath and touches her flagging penis with the palm of her right hand, doing all the things that her male lovers had liked. It's almost clinical, she feels split in parts, one with her hand on her own dick and another hovering outside somewhere, taking notes. The other part is crying, but she pushed that ruthlessly away with a hard stroke to enjoy a peculiarly centred orgasm.

Two days after that, she went out and picked up a man. She hadn't had much difficulty picking up men as a woman, but as a man it was even easier. As she pushed her latest conquest up against the wall and kissed him, she wondered whether the awareness of her new physical strength was affecting her judgement.

She knew what she wanted and she got it. The rip of the wrapper, the feel of the latex between her fingers and in her mouth as she used her lips to roll the condom down, and then slide of the lube and fingers in her ass. She'd done this a few times as a woman, so the stretch and burn of it was familiar, but when her partner – Jake, was it? – grazed a finger over her prostrate, she wasn't prepared for the zing that went through her.

"Do it," she said, not begging but demanding, and he obliged. She pushed herself back onto his cock, so far so familiar, and angled herself so that every thrust hit her prostrate.

After she kicked him out, she looked at her hands and her cock and the stains on her sheets for a long time before going to sleep on the couch.

Next man, she was on the top.

Lilah debated for some time about whether to sleep with Lindsay or not. As a woman, she could never have considered it, couldn't afford that weakness, but perhaps it was possible as a man? She didn't go quite as far as making a list, but she weighed up her options.

When she decided to go for it, she made her plans as carefully as she would have made any work-related plan.

"Fancy a beer?" she asked, strolling into his office without knocking and leaning casually against his desk. His eyes flicked over her and she wondered for a moment whether that move was too feminine, but pushed away the doubts as he raised an eyebrow.

"Bit early for that, isn't it?" he said, glancing at the clock.

"What, are you afraid to leave the office before 9pm in case you turn into a pumpkin?" Lilah asked. Lindsay was standing as she spoke, gathering his jacket.

By mutual consent, they headed for a bar not often frequented by lawyers of Wolfram and Hart. Lilah bought them two beers without asking Lindsay what he wanted, and manoeuvred them over into a booth.

"Here's to work," she said wryly. Lindsay raised that eyebrow again but clinked the bottom of his bottle against hers and took a hefty slug before saying:

"Don't we have anything better to drink to?" Lilah took a small gulp of her drink before replying.

"What do you suggest?" she asked. Lindsay swallowed almost half his beer.

"What about fun?" he asked. Then it was Lilah's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"You don't seem to have much fun," she said, as non-commitally as she could. Lindsay bristled, but before he could say anything, Lilah leaned forward.

"We both know why we're here. Why don't you drink that," she gestured at the almost-empty bottle in his hand, "and we'll go."

"What about yours?" Lindsay said.

"I don't need beer to have fun," she told him archly, giving him a smile that was all teeth. "Besides, I'm driving." Lindsay gave a twisted sort of smile, finished his beer and picked up hers without asking.

The drive to her place was tense. Lindsay fidgeted beside her, staring out of the window and drumming his fingers on his knee. Lilah drove as smoothly as she could, trying to keep her face impassive and ignore the shifting, sideways glances that Lindsay was giving her.

'To kiss or not?" she wondered, as she opened her front door. Lindsay took the matter out of her hands by leaning in as soon as the door was shut. His hands were on her face and the kiss was oddly chaste, a firm press of lips to lips but hesitant nonetheless. When the kiss broke, Lilah stared at him for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him again.

Then things got a little out of hand. When Lilah came back to herself, she was half-naked on her bed, Lindsay's hand wrapped around her cock and her hands inside his pants, gripping his ass. Still kissing fiercely, she rolled them over so Lindsay was flat on his back before leaning over to grab the lube from the bedside cabinet. Lindsay moved, beginning to roll over onto his front, but Lilah stopped him.

"Like this," she said, removing the remainder of his clothing and sliding one finger into his ass. Lindsay gasped, his whole body rigid and clenched against her, but as she watched he relaxed, eyelids fluttering shut and knees falling open to allow her better access. Lilah smirked and went to work, stretching him efficiently before rolling on a condom and sliding inside, revelling in every noise he made.

"Open your eyes," she said firmly. "You don't want to miss this," and when Lindsay's eyes were open and fixed on her face, she began to move. Every time his eyes began to drift closed, Lilah forced herself to still.

"Look at me!" she snapped, and Lindsay made a strangled sound and bucked up with his hips, trying to hurry her up. She waited until he was coming before she buried her face in his neck and allowed her own orgasm to overtake her.

She pulled out as soon as she could and stood up. Lindsay's eyes were open and he was watching her.

"Why did you do this to me?" she asked calmly. She registered the expression of horror which flickered over his face for a minute, to be replaced by a blank expression.

"Who says I did it?" he replied, rolling onto his side and propping himself up with one elbow.

"I know you did it," Lilah told him, trying to keep her voice steady and her features impassive.

"How? Women's intuition?" sneered Lindsay. It took all of Lilah's self-control not to punch him. She took a deep breath.

"Did you just want me disoriented, or was it something else?" she asked, watching him closely. "If what you wanted was this," she gestured, throwing the used condom so it landed with a wet splat on his chest where it oozed, causing him to yelp and scrabble at it, "then you can change me back now."

"It's a man's world, Lilah," Lindsay taunted, using her sheet to wipe the come off his chest. "You sure you don't want to stay like that?"

"I'm not a man!" she yelled, cursing herself for shouting almost as soon as the words left her lips.

"Not what it looks like from here," Lindsay said, getting off the bed slightly gingerly. "Don't say you don't like it."

"Just because you have issues with your sexuality doesn't mean I have issues with mine," Lilah hissed. "I will never, ever fuck you again so you can just turn me back and find yourself an actual man to fuck you." Lindsay twitched, hard, and began pulling on his clothes with short, jerky movements. Lilah didn't bother with hers, just stood, arms folded across her chest. When Lindsay turned to look at her again, his eyes didn't flicker below her face.

"You're going to be sorry," he sneered, slamming the door hard on his way out. Lilah shrugged and tried out her new singing voice in the shower.

She didn't get her old body back until Lindsay lost his hand. When she did, the first thing she did was put her hand in her pants. The second was get dressed for work.


End file.
